


Cosmic Love

by Z A Dusk (snakeandmoon)



Series: Kisses Bingo [7]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel and Demon True Forms (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, IDK what else to tell you, Kisses Bingo, M/M, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, metaphysical injury, really this is just 500 words of true form fluff and purple prose, true form connections, true form love, very gentle hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26243815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeandmoon/pseuds/Z%20A%20Dusk
Summary: Crowley has injured his true form. He needs Aziraphale to patch him up - but is he ready for the intimacy that entails?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Kisses Bingo [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869964
Comments: 15
Kudos: 79
Collections: Kisses Bingo





	Cosmic Love

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for [Kissing Bingo](http://bingokisses.tumblr.com)
> 
> Prompt: Patching up a wound
> 
> I'm challenging myself to keep these to 500 words or under, so there's no risk of them turning into 40K fluff and angst fests - I already have enough of those to keep me occupied!
> 
> I'm putting these in a series to make it easy to find them all, but each one is a standalone. The only connection between them is fluff and kisses!

“Crowley, how on earth does one even injure one’s true form …?”

“Look, sometimes a person gets curious and invokes something, and it goes wrong. Are you gonna help patch me up or not, angel?”

“Of course I am.” Aziraphale was giving him that look, all furrowed brows and worry with a hint of admonishment. “I am just a little concerned that my celestial energy might harm you.”

Crowley groaned and rolled his eyes. He understood, really he did, but he was in an extraordinary amount of pain and eager to get from talking to doing something about it. Not to mention the embarrassment.

Aziraphale reached over and touched his hand, and Crowley tried not to flinch at the bolt of sensation up his arm. Satan, he’d wanted the angel for so long, and now he was inviting him to see and touch his true form, as if that was quite alright, thank you very much.

“Get on with it.”

Crowley said and closed his eyes tight. At first it felt like nothing was happening. Then he felt the gentle, insistent nudge of the angel’s energy against his own. It was cool as snow, soothing against the flaming brand of his own essence. 

“Is this alright?”

Aziraphale asked worriedly as he moved deeper. Crowley heard him with his physical ears, but there was something deeper too, as if he was hearing Aziraphale deep inside his soul.

“S’fine.” He muttered, even as he could feel infernal fire rushing over the spinning wheels of his true form, glowing in response to the soft press of Aziraphale’s energy. Then Aziraphale found the site of the injury and softly blew his grace across it like a breeze lifting spoondrift from the surface of the sea, and all coherent thought left Crowley’s mind.

He was floating in an endless night sky, tilting wheels caressed by starlight as his best friend curled around and between them like ribbons of moonlight.

“There.” It was a feeling more than a word, a sense of satisfaction at finding the cause of his pain. Crowley withdrew his consciousness from his human corporation, putting his full attention on the unique sensation of Aziraphale’s grace and light sliding over his burning wheels. 

Before long Crowley was feeling much better, the damaged threads around the wound knit neatly back together. When Aziraphale made to draw back, Crowley instinctively followed him, wheels tilting to keep the angel close. Neither of them said anything. By mutual accord they stayed in the dark space between stars and between eternity, ebbing and flowing together until Crowley thought he might shake apart with pleasure. When Aziraphale carefully ran a tendril of energy over the symbols on Crowley’s wheels, mapping out the arcane story of him, Crowley shouted Aziraphale’s name with a thousand voices. He was falling, towards joy this time, and Aziraphale caught him, holding him in multitudes of wings and whispering words of love and praise in every language ever spoken.

He was home.


End file.
